Magnetic
by crystalswolf
Summary: Reposting. This is T'pol's perspective of her intimate interspecies fling with Trip in Harbinger.


Title: Magnetic

Series: Enterprise

Rating: T

Summary: This is T'Pol's perspective during her intimate interspecies fling with Trip in "Harbinger"

Disclaimer: Of course, Star Trek characters do not belong to me, I'm just borrowing them hopefully to honor them.

* * *

"You aren't saying much tonight. Don't tell me you're still upset about me and Amanda."

Sitting on the floor, T'Pol leaned forward to press the tips of her fingers to the pressure points behind her companion's jaw. If she were to apply too much pressure, Trip would not be able to speak for a week. It took two seconds to consider just how much pressure to apply and an eternity to ultimately decide not to injure the engineer for the sake of their mission. "I'm not upset."

"It sure sounds like it."

He would not leave well enough alone. He continued with his flawed assumption of some imagined feeling she'd had in response to his casual tryst with a more muscles than intellect MACO. The barbarian female probably couldn't even master breathing, much less the first posture unless it was somehow associated with violence.

She'd overcome her discomfort to instruct him in the intimate practice only to have him share it with that Neanderthal as though it were nothing more than a conversation.

"You're mistaken."

"Why would a few neuropressure sessions between me and a MACO be such a big deal?"

T'Pol wondered just how many sessions he'd had with the woman, but chose to push the thought out of her mind.

Trip's tongue played with the front of his gums behind his lips as he did whenever in the midst of setting one of his verbal traps, a trait of his she'd learned well.

"Unless "

And yet, as it had been since their first meeting, she could not help but fall into it. Her curiosity of just how strange his typically human mind worked won each time.

"Unless what?"

"Unless you're a little jealous," he said, completely at ease with the assumption and oblivious to the Vulcan reality that jealousy was, of all emotions, the most despised and shameful. Considered the most destructive, jealousy was one of the first emotions Vulcan children mastered to suppress.

"I don't experience jealousy."

"You're doing a pretty fair imitation of it."

The side of his mouth pulled back into a grimace and T'Pol recognized some war rage inside him. He knew Vulcans did not lie and should believe what she said but he sensed something else.

Humans always trusted instinct over logic and TPol could not understand them, especially Trip. And yet, something gnawed at her solid understanding of the subtle and not so subtle differences between their species as she continued to press her fingers against his shoulder muscles.

Did that brute passing as an officer touch him here? Did he touch her there? Images of Trip and the burly human woman in undergarments, both sweaty and in various postures forced their way to her mind and T'Pol could not push them out, no matter how hard she tried.

"I am not, in any way, jealous of you and Corporal Cole," her voice faltered on the name but it was so slight, T'Pol was sure human ears couldn't detect it. But why did the name bother her so much?

"You know, your voice is tensing up. It's a dead giveaway."

T'Pol's mind scattered, thoughts running in all directions chased by completely uncontrolled emotions: embarrassment, anger, confusion, and fear. "I didn't know you were an expert in vocal inflections."

"I don't need to be an expert to read you." The trap sprung but seemed to not produce the desired effect because his tone, slightly weary, pleaded for some truth T'Pol had been only peripherally aware of until now.

"Come on, admit it. You're a little jealous," he urged her to admit.

Like magnets, when in the same room their fields stretched outward, yearning to connect like the opposites they were, twisting and contorting until they could touch, meld. When they came together for neuropressure, it felt natural as though all in the universe were in order; the magnets aligned. Then Amanda Cole disrupted everything.

Unsuccessful the first time, T'Pol knew she could not lie to him convincingly but there were other weapons in her arsenal of logic.

"You're implying that I'm attracted to you."

"It kind'a goes with the assumption," Trip responded quickly.

Carefully considering how to proceed, T'Pol chose the route she knew would cause the most damage to his concentration.

"I think you're mistaken about who's attracted to whom."

As she predicted, Trip had no idea where their conversation had turned. He was no longer in control of the situation.

"Are you saying I'm attracted to you?"

If she were human she would not have been able to hide her self-satisfaction. Control of her emotions served her well at the moment.

"I don't need to say it. You already have."

His face flushed, voice tightened and annoyance spilled from his eyes and flaring nostrils. T'Pol was sure in this state humans could barely tie their own shoes much less regain control of a precarious conversational tug-of-war.

"I don't remember that conversation."

Cruel, perhaps even sadistic, unbalancing him became almost too simple when she corrected, "It wasn't you, it was your clone. Sim told me."

She wondered if the path she'd chosen went too far. Sim, his clone cultured, raised, and eventually killed to save Trip's life was a sore subject for the engineer. As Sim had once pondered his value among Trip's acquaintances, if they saw no more than a glimpse of the original in a copy, Trip often wondered whether he had somehow, at some time, become the substitute for his clone.

"Sim?" the name was almost accusatory.

Regretting her choice in direction, T'Pol had no choice but to continue.

"He said he had feelings for me."

"He told you that?"

His face scrunched into what could have been anger over Sim's betrayal of their shared emotions or could have been simple disbelief. Either way, her fingertips felt his body tensing and radiating with a surge of heat.

"Standing right there," she said as she nodded in the direction of the locker Sim leaned against when he told her the words that vibrated from her ears down to he toes.

"You're all I think about, if you know what I mean... The problem is, I don't know if these feelings are mine or his." Sim not only confessed his love for her but Trip's as well and since that moment, she considered the possibilities.

"What the hell was he doing in your room?" he raged, nostrils flaring wildly now, holding onto what little emotional control he possessed.

"Your voice is tensing up."

The remark satisfied a strange need to even some score of some unknown tally. Perhaps her path in conversation wasn't a misstep if the result was so satisfying.

"Oh, now you're the vocal expert," he huffed and T'Pol could not hold back her response one second more than it took for him to finish his sentence. "I don't need to be an expert to read you."

Resigning to his inner workings, Trip sighed in disbelief, "I can't believe this. I'm jealous... of myself?" The thought too bizarre to fully comprehend left the weight of his declaration unnoticed... except by T'Pol.

"You're jealous?" The question tumbled out of her mouth before she could consider the ramifications. Suddenly, she awakened to everything around them.

Her senses heightened, waiting for a response. Her skin tingled from a charge in the air, their magnetic fields crackling as they merged. A renewed awareness of the candles, handcrafted in Selayan temples and always lit for her meditation, their smoke hinted of sacred herbs burned in those very temples.

The overpowering scent of animalistic musk, typical of humans, coupled with antimatter charged metal of engineering and what she'd recently learned was a pleasant fruit called peaches, was distinct to only one human on the entire ship. Somewhere between their entrance into the expanse and this moment, she acquired a preference for his unique scent.

"No, absolutely not," he quickly denied, perhaps a reflex of their typical power struggle. T'Pol felt an unnerving mixture of emotions leaving her unable to concentrate on what to control and what required immediate suppression, ultimately bringing all to the fore, including disappointment and pain.

"Okay, maybe," his eyes squinted and facial muscles tightened, unsure of how much to disclose until finally succumbing to the inevitable, "Maybe I am, a little."

Her ears buzzed much like an Earth hummingbird, and realized it was her heart she heard. Quite different from the normal flutter of a Vulcan heart, as it understood what her brain hadn't yet. Even as the words passed her lips, the value of logic dissipated with her breath.

"Which would mean you're attracted to me." But before he could argue in an instinctual reflex, T'Pol continued, "It goes with the assumption."

Denied his obvious route to the safety of their tension-diffusing banter, Trip flustered, "What just happened here?" Blue eyes hid behind lids shut tightly as the human mind tried to resolve the declaration of desire with their only recently established comfortable friendship. His eyes opened but his head shook in denial.

"Did we? Are we?"

As sensitive as they were, her pointed ears no longer heard what he said while her entire body dangled by the movement of his lips. They promised the solar heat she wanted to bathe her entire body in. Those sounds that came from them, words, became an inconvenience.

A slender hand pressed to his cheek. Body heat sparked their magnetic fields into fiery charges within them, between them, connecting finally in their lips as her mouth rushed to his with the force and speed of attracted magnets. Her other hand drew upward to his other cheek cupping his clean-shaven jaw in a loosely formed V-shape. Electricity flowed through her lips and fingertips to his skin and returned to her, reverberating from lips to jaw, jaw to chest, chest to stomach, stomach to her thighs and down to her toes.

Those human lips welcomed her openly, not a hint of hesitation or resistance to the pull of their opposing fields. His body submitted wholly. Parting lips, he shared his precious moisture.

Very few humans were aware of kissing among Vulcans, but even fewer knew the deepest level of intimacy it implied. On an arid planet, sharing bodily fluids required a willingness to give precious moisture otherwise efficiently contained within their bodies, to another. It was a practical standard that eventually became cultural sensibility.

T'Pol assumed he did not know this and she was not going to volunteer that information as she lost herself in his lips. Cultural sensibilities, as well as logic, no longer existed. It had become nothing more than an ethereal concept only the gods of ancient Vulcan could divine.

Her lips reluctantly pulled away from their warm, moist counterpart and T'Pol sat upright surrendering herself to what she knew she could no longer avoid. The tie to her robe unraveled by barely controlled hands that were determined to shake and the silken material slid off of her shoulders.

Now naked, exposed to the pair of eyes that she was acutely aware of, insecurity crept in as T'Pol wondered, to human male aesthetic sensibilities, how Vulcan and human women compared. There were very few internal and even less external differences; she studied them well. Considering the few there were, T'Pol wondered if he'd balked at the typically fine, fur-like body hair of Vulcans, preferring the coarser body hair of human women.

His head and eyes slowly lowered, absorbing the visual of her body. She heard his breaths quicken, saw his entire body flush and she was comforted that their differences were not a concern. T'Pol leaned in to return to the bliss of those heatedly moist human lips that she found as relaxing as the fountain in her parents entranceway where she often sat near studying her lessons. His mouth partially lowered in awe, his eyes fixed on her face as though she were a goddess descending upon a devout follower.

Unsure of T'Pol's seriousness to further their intimacy, Trip hadn't participated except for his accommodating mouth, that is, until the robe slipped away for all he knew jettisoned out of the ship and irrevocably changed the nature of their relationship. It was enough to unfreeze his arms, igniting his hands into an exploration of her flesh that heated each millimeter of skin in its wake, ending at the small of her back with gently clawed fingers scraping lightly. She wasn't sure how he knew that was exactly how to sexually arouse Vulcan females, not that she needed help.

T'Pol wanted to freely feel his body as well but he was still clothed. As though hearing her thoughts, his hands reached for hers and set them to his bare chest. Her fingers ran along his chest, up and down his arms, caressed by the hairs that covered them and savoring the heat radiating from his soft skin.

She had seen partially dressed human males before and was, at first, repulsed by their lumpier, bulkier bodies and excessive hair. Over time, especially after her neuropressure sessions with Trip began, she'd become desensitized by those differences. In fact, she was intrigued by them. She'd felt his skin before but the anticipation of having it pressed against her body pushed her to more carefully learn its texture. His eyes closed, his breath rasped as he allowed her a turn at exploration.

Standing up, T'Pol offered her hand and he accepted the offering, rising up to meet her. Her mouth pulled to his, her hands wound around to his back then to his chest flowing downward. Over the hills and valleys of ribs and abdominal muscles, down to the band of his sweatpants, one of many he was so fond of wearing to their sessions, remembering every millimeter they crossed. Raspy breaths halted completely as T'Pol slid her hands under the band of the sweat pants.

His eyes rolled back, head tipped exposing his neck to her and she drew her face close to smell him. Full lips ran across the thin recently shaved skin, his jaw and neck clean shaven for all of their sessions. She nuzzled behind his ear at his hairline and not sure why but nibbled at his earlobe. Every part of him tensed, his arms around her tightened as he turned his head, straining to capture her lips to his. Was this some erogenous zone for human males and how did she know to do that?

T'Pol pushed down and his pants crumpled until they were nothing more than a pile at his feet. No longer calm or patient, Trip sat on the bed and pulled T'Pol to him. Blue eyes staring at her with no less adoration than had been there when she offered her nude body, T'Pol followed them into his arms and pulled her legs around him.

x

A chirping sound had come from somewhere in the room. Most of the candles had burned out and it was fairly dark except for the soft light of a candle flickering in the corner, it barely illuminated its small area much less anything else in the room.

They had fallen asleep after their third coupling and T'Pol woke with her head on his chest, nestled in the soft chest hairs she'd acquired a preference to feel caress her skin.

Slow and steady, the rise and fall of his chest told her he was sleeping through the noise. Quietly, as gently as she could, she lifted herself from him and made her way to the intercom, toeing each step, hoping to avoid tripping over one of the several items left on the floor. "T'Pol here." The sheets on her bed rustled in the dark.

"You're needed on the Bridge, Commander."

Ensign Sato's voice was strained and T'Pol knew there was no time to delay. "On my way."

"Commander, if you happen to see Commander Tucker, please tell him he's required in Engineering."

T'Pol pressed the intercom one last time to speak, "Affirmative." The rustling from the bed changed to the soft creak of someone moving heavily, she was sure he was awake but could not make out any shapes in the area of the bed.

"I heard," his voice called out to her as she heard movement along the floor.

The control for the lights was not far from the intercom. She turned it to one of the dimmer settings but just enough to see with eyes that were trying to adjust to pitch blackness. Trip already had his sweat pants in hand trying to find the hole to put his leg through. The light helped.

From her locker, T'Pol snatched one of her suits and in record time slid it on her body. Her feet slipping into a pair of shoes, she was almost out of the door when a hand, the hand that she could still feel on her thighs held her arm. He was staring at her but T'Pol couldn't bring herself to look at him. To do so would mean acknowledging what she had done with him, to him.

"Commander, I'm required on the Bridge, you in Engineering."

Mustering everything she had not to leap at him, to connect their mouths when her eyes reluctantly met his, T'Pol made sure to give him the coldest stare she could muster. His hand released and with a tap at the control panel, she was thankfully through the door.


End file.
